Picture Perfect
by niklovr
Summary: Evangeline and John's newly defined relationship is picture perfect, but can it survive interference by newly divorced Cristian Vega?
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1

"Mama, I don't know about this."

Evangeline Williamson hitched a breath as Yvonne Williamson gave her the same enigmatic smile that frustrated Evangeline throughout childhood. They were in the artsy section of Angel Square. A few weeks ago, they attended a gallery showing. A light sparked in her mother's eyes then, but Evangeline forced herself to ignore it. After all these years, she should have trusted her instincts.

"You can't back out now." Yvonne had a stubborn streak miles long. It was no secret where Evangeline inherited the trait. "We have an appointment and I plan to keep it. He generously rearranged his schedule to accommodate yours. We have better manners than to change our minds now."

"We…our…you're making us sound like royalty."

"I'll ignore that."

Evangeline allowed a small glimpse of her humor to show. "Please do."

"We're here."

The place looked dark and deserted. Evangeline closed her hand around her cell phone. John didn't know about their outing today. Suddenly, she wished she had told him. Her mother reached for the doorknob.

"Mama, don't. He's not here. Let's just go."

"He's here. He called to confirm this morning." Yvonne turned the knob. The door opened without resistance or a squeak. She stepped inside, but Evangeline lingered on the sidewalk. "I can't believe you're behaving this way. Does it help to know that this is something your father always wanted for you? If that business hadn't happened at school, he would have seen to it."

"Daddy never mentioned it."

Her mother reached out and gently stroked her cheek. "He loved surprising you. This is my gift to you for him. One last family thing." She extended her hand. "Will you come with me now?"

"Yes, Mama."

Light glowed from the back. The smell of paint permeated the room. Covered canvases filled the walk space, reminding Evangeline of not being able to see the forest for the trees. She wondered what secrets lay hidden. What masterpieces waited to be uncovered? After recent events, she was almost frightened of what could be revealed. Besides, none of it was any of her business. Finally, her life had formed a cohesive unit that she trusted. She and John had been honest about their wants and needs. She couldn't ask for a better relationship. Theirs was perfect.

"Hello!" Her mother called in her best school principal voice. "We're here."

A silhouette came forth, blocking the light for just a moment. Evangeline recognized the outline of his close cropped wavy hair and broad muscled shoulders. Then, he stepped closer. The light returned and shone brightly on Cristian Vega's rugged profile. He smiled.

"Hello, ladies. You're right on time. Please, follow me."

* * *

Cristian rubbed his hands together, warming them. Most artists used brushes. He preferred the hands on approach. He took in a long, deep breath. The canvas, the paints and even his subject created a special aroma.

While locked on a ship, tethered like a dog, he was still allowed his art. He thanked God for it. Of course, he'd been a fool devoting so much time to creating images of Natalie. He believed his wife ached for him as badly as he did for her. But he was wrong. She yearned for John McBain, the cop bastard that caused their separation in the first place.

Damn, how stupid could he be? Had love blinded him?

Obviously, it had.

At least that phase of his life was over. After hearing her confession about her lingering feelings for the other man, Cristian tried to make it work. He fought a losing battle. They couldn't recapture what once came so easily. So he filed for divorce and moved into his art studio.

Antonio warned him against moving hastily. His brother/cousin said that McBain was seriously involved with Mitch Laurence's forner attorney, Evangeline Williamson. In Cristian's opinion, that made perfect sense. Until a recent gallery showing. He needed to reacquaint himself with the art community so he attended the after party. While standing in the shadows, he watched Evangeline admire the pieces of art and interact with a spirited, petite woman he soon learned was her mother.

When Yvonne Williamson admitted to enjoying his work and quickly asking him to do a portrait of her daughter, he found it difficult to say no. Besides, he needed the money.

Evangeline shifted again on the chaise lounge. Her nervousness charmed him. He never expected the confident attorney to be freaked by anything. Imagine that.

"Relax," he said, in a soothing tone. "It's just canvas and paint. All you have to do is sit there."

She frowned. "I moved again, didn't I? I'm sorry. I've never done this before."

"I know."

Her eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment. "Am I that obvious? I'm so grateful that you sent my mother home. If she were here, she'd drive us both nuts."

"She's opinionated." He dipped his middle finger onto his color palette. He'd blended different shades of browns and creams to find the perfect balance of her creamy skin tone. "But it's obvious that she cares about you."

"She's great, but I wouldn't be able to sit like this with her here." She released a short chuckle. "Not that I'm doing a great job now. Would it be better if I stopped talking?"

"It's fine. I'm not on your mouth, yet."

Her eyes widened. For a moment, their gazes connected. Awareness shot through him. His eyes dropped to her mouth, memorizing the curve and fullness of her lips. He swallowed hard. It would do him no good to become emotionally intrigued by John McBain's woman. Especially when all he wanted to do was make John feel the anguish of losing his lover to another man. Once his mission was accomplished, Cris planned to walk away.

Regardless of how enticing he found Evangeline Williamson and her delectable mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Yes, I want that filed as soon as possible. Thanks, Dawn. I'll see you back at the office." Evangeline closed her cell phone and met John's amused gaze. All around them the Angel Square Diner buzzed with the energy of the lunch crowd.

"I'm sorry about that," she said.

"Hey, I'm just lucky that you were able to meet me at all. It was touch and go at first."

A waitress came and took their orders. Evangeline used the ensuing silence to relax. Defending Jessica Buchanan-Santi in the Tico Santi murder investigation took a good deal of her time. The rest was spent with Cristian. She didn't know how it happened, but days passed without her and John crossing paths. He called several times to get this lunch date for them. And part of her felt his effort was long overdue.

She sighed. "This is nice."

He took her hand, lacing their fingers together. "I've missed you. You've never been this impossible to reach."

"What do you mean? I'm here now."

"I don't know. Something feels different." He lifted her hand and kissed the back. "How does your mom like Llanview?"

"She's settling in nicely. Retirement bored her. She's been spending a lot of time at the Love Community Center and helping with the after school programs. It's been wonderful having her around."

"I can't see her retired. She's filled with energy. I can see where you get it."

She smiled. "How's Michael? I saw Marcie on the Pat Ashley Show this morning and I noticed the absence of an engagement ring."

"They've decided to take things slowly." His brows drew together for a brief moment. "You know, I'm tired of talking about everyone else."

"Oh, really?"

He nodded. "The Eagles are playing on Saturday. We could drive down after work on Friday, spend the night and return on Sunday. What do you think?"

"I'd love to--"

The waitress returned with his chicken salad and her club sandwich. She refilled their coffee and said, "I hope you'll enjoy your meal."

"Thanks," Evangeline said.

After the waitress left, John continued their conversation. "So, we're on for this weekend."

"I can't."

"Why not? It's just a couple of days. We'll come back early on Sunday."

"It sounds great, but I have so much to do right now. With the case and my mom…and other stuff."

He dropped his fork onto the plate and leaned back. His blue eyes flashed and his voice lowered. "This is about Natalie, isn't it?"

"What does she have to do with anything?"

Evangeline's appetite vanished. She worked through his friendship with Natalie and had set it aside. No, she hadn't told him about Cristian painting her portrait, but the topic hadn't come up. Whenever she thought to mention it, a little voice cautioned against doing so. She never questioned the voice or its reasons.

"The last time we were together, she called upset about Cristian. Don't act like you don't remember--"

"That was something I hadn't stored in my memory files. Look, I want to go with you."

"Then, let's do it."

"John, it's not that easy."

He stood and took the bill. "I remember when it used to be."

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and stormed off to pay for the lunch. The bell at the door rung. Cristian walked in. His eyes held hers for a moment before he glanced at John at the register. Subconsciously, she held her breath, waiting.

She half expected John to come back. He didn't. Instead, he headed toward the exit. For a moment, Cristian blocked his path. Then, the younger man walked to the counter, moving as if the last few seconds hadn't happened. Evangeline watched in awe. What the hell was going on?

A few minutes passed. She tried to eat, but the bread tasted like sawdust in her mouth. She tossed her napkin over the plate and closed her eyes. The interesting aroma of paint and spicy male after-shave assailed her senses. When she opened her eyes, she wasn't surprised to find Cristian there.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sliding into the seat John had vacated.

"I've had better days. You?"

"I can't complain." He lifted her napkin. "You didn't eat. I can have Mamí bring you something else…on the house."

She shook her head. "I lost my appetite. But thanks." Conversing with him outside his studio felt weird. Nervous excitement skittered through her. She inhaled a quick breath and glanced at her watch. "I'd better get back."

"You're handling Jessica's case. How is that going?" He stood with her.

"It's going. I can't say much more than that."

He nodded. "I understand. Are we still on tonight?"

Oh, God. Why did that sound like a date?

"Um… I don't know. I have so much work to do. I can't afford to get behind--"

"I know. You're busy and everything. I don't want to rush, but your mother is eager for the finished product. I'll call her and let her know there will be a slight delay--"

"No!" Evangeline touched his arm. The corded muscle beneath her fingertips jumped and pulsed. She snatched her hand back as if she'd been burned. A sharp intake of air was his only reaction. She stepped back. "Don't call her. She'll want to know why and what for. I may be a little late, but I'll be there."

"I don't want you to feel pressured." His voice sounded smooth and calming. "It's just a painting. I'm sure your mom will understand."

"You don't know her. She can be understanding, but for some reason, this portrait means a lot to her. If you don't mind my being late…"

He shook his head. "I don't mind. Later then."

They parted ways at the door. He went toward the kitchen and she left. She tried hard not to think about the last hour. Things between her and John had been perfect. Now, he was mad. Then, Cristian walked in, understanding and accommodating. His brown eyes bored into hers and he seemed to get everything she hadn't said. How was that?

Her mind betrayed her and worked on analyzing both situations. Too caught up in her thoughts, she bumped into someone.

"Excuse me." Collecting her bearings, she focused to make an eye to eye apology. "I'm sorry…Natalie."

"I saw you in the diner." The redhead jutted her chin toward the restaurant. "Why were you having lunch with Cristian?"

Months of unnecessary aggravation rose to the surface. The younger woman's rudeness and attitude struck a nerve. Normally, polite yet reserved, Evangeline responded with civility. Not so today.

"I wasn't," she said in a curt tone and walked away, leaving Natalie open mouthed and silent.

"That felt good," Evangeline murmured under her breath as she headed to her car. "Real good."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Cristian had noticed the tension between Evangeline and John at the diner. During his visit with his mother, he wondered about the couple. Were they already having problems? How much of a push would Evangeline need to betray her lover?

A heavy weight suddenly pressed onto his chest.

Evangeline and betrayal didn't go together. Sure, he heard about the circumstances leading to her relationship with McBain. She and RJ had been together and then the former Fed swooped in right under the crime-boss/club-owner's nose. Having worked for RJ, Cristian knew the man well enough to know that Gannon and Evangeline were doomed from the start. If RJ thought otherwise, the man had become a fool in the year of Cristian's captivity.

He returned to his studio and began setting up for the evening's session. Evangeline's interesting choice of clients--namely, Mitch Laurence and Todd Manning--had her pegged as bordering on opportunist. Then, he heard about the custody case for Kevin's son and how she quit representing Todd when he and Blair went after Asa's home. Now, she served as Jessica's attorney. The steely glint he noticed in her brown eyes whenever she mentioned work went beyond wanting a kick ass track record. Integrity and determination went hand in hand. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Evangeline's inside was just as appealing as the outside package.

An hour later, a pan of tamales warmed in the oven. The lights were dimmed. Santana's _Supernatural_ CD played in the stereo. Cristian glanced at the clock and rubbed his hands together. Evangeline warned that she'd be late, but he knew her better than that. The woman was a stickler for punctuality. Any minute, he'd hear her heels click along the hardwood floor and her signature floral scent would waft through his studio, competing with the smell of paint and Carlotta's delicious dinner. Smiling to himself, he removed the sheet covering the canvas and mentally counted the seconds to her arrival.

Five…four…three…two…

The front door creaked opened. A voice called out, "Cristian, are you here? It's me, Evangeline. I'm sorry I'm late."

One.

McBain, you'll never know what hit you, Cristian thought. Then, he beckoned to Evangeline and they began their nightly ritual.

---

Half a dozen times John reached for the phone. Fighting with Evangeline always tied his stomach into knots. He guzzled a bottle of Pepto-Bismal and then popped in several sticks of Big Red. The spicy, cinnamon flavored gum awakened his senses. All of a sudden, he realized how badly he missed her…the softness of her hands, the glossy sheen of her dark hair, the airy scent of her perfume and the sweetness of her mouth.

Grunting, he ran a hand over his face. This was stupid. Arguing was dumb. So, she had stuff to do and couldn't get away. How many times had police business kept him from her, or God forbid, how many times had Natalie? Evangeline had a life. He considered himself damn lucky that she included him in most of it. He owed it to her make things right.

He leafed through the yellow pages until he found what he wanted. After dialing, he balanced the phone against his ear as he closed his office door to ensure privacy.

Someone answered on the fourth ring.

"Delilah's Hothouse, how can I help you?"

He frowned. "Is this the flower shop?"

"Basically, yes, but she wants us to sound exotic," replied the clerk. "What sort of arrangement would you like?"

"A dozen red roses," John said. "I want them just on the verge of blooming and I want them delivered tonight if that's possible."

"Wow, you must be in deep trouble--"

"Don't worry about it," he responded gruffly. "I want a card attached."

"Of course."

Irritation went through John. He came close to mouthing off, but Evangeline deserved the best. If he voiced what was on his mind, the smart-ass clerk might send her dead roses instead of fresh ones.

"I over reacted. Sorry. John."

He waited for the clerk to repeat the message. They settled the bill over the phone and he instructed them to deliver the flowers to her townhouse. After the call ended, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. The roses would lay the groundwork. It was up to him to solidify the foundation.

For the next couple of hours, work demanded his full attention. With tension creeping up his neck, he broke for coffee around nine. As he swallowed the steaming brew, a light knock sounded at his door.

"Come in."

"Hi, John."

Tension returned at the sight of Natalie. The sudden divorce from Cristian sent her crying to him. John knew she confessed having feelings for him and that led to the break-up. Renewed guilt claimed him. Maybe if he had made it clear to her that he held absolutely no interest in her other friendship, she wouldn't have risked her marriage. He never disclosed the full details to Evangeline and refused to question his reasons why.

"Natalie." He took another sip of coffee for strength. "It's late. Shouldn't you be at Rodi's or at home?"

"I worked the swing shift today." She entered and closed the door. A brown paper bag was clutched in her hand. "Here's a burger and some onion rings. I figured you hadn't eaten."

His stomach turned. Food lost all appeal after the disastrous lunch with Evangeline. The last thing he wanted was junk food from Rodi's.

He shook his head. "You figured wrong. Thanks, but no thanks."

"Oh. Okay." The corners of her mouth turned down.

"If there's nothing else, I'm pretty busy tonight so--"

"Why did Evangeline have lunch with Cristian today?"

He stiffened at her sudden outburst. Her question caused him to grow still. Even his stomach paused. Fixing her with a hard glare, he said, "She didn't."

"Yes, she did," Natalie insisted. "I saw them together at the Angel Square Diner. What do they have to talk about? Is she representing him in a case or is he a witness for Jessica?"

"Natalie, Evangeline wasn't with Cristian today. She was with me." He set the coffee mug so hard onto his desk that it spilled.

Natalie moved quickly to clean the mess. He stepped back to give her room. All the while, wheels turned inside his mind. Cristian had entered as John left the diner. As usual, he was invisible to the younger man. Had Cristian spoken to Evangeline afterward? If so, why?

"They looked pretty chummy," Natalie said, her mouth tight. She finished cleaning his desk and folded her arms across her chest. "He smiled at her. I haven't seen his smile in ages."

"He divorced you," he said quietly, almost under his breath. "Look, I wish I could help you, but I don't have time."

She moved slowly to the door and paused. "Are you mad?"

"Since when does my anger matter?" he retorted. Upon her saddened look, he added, "No, I'm busy. Look, Natalie, whatever Cristian does now is none of your business. Evangeline's actions are none of your business either."

"You make it sound as if I'm trying to start something--"

"Aren't you?"

"It was just a question," she defended.

"And not one you had a right to ask. If you want to know why Cristian smiles at another woman, ask him. Don't come to me."

Her eyes flashed with fire and hurt. "What about Evangeline? Wouldn't you want to know if she's sneaking around behind your back?"

"She wouldn't do that."

Natalie smirked. "Oh, no?"

Then, she left. Thirty seconds later, John knew work was a lost cause. He locked the files in his desk and slammed out of his office. If Cristian Vega was indeed smiling at his woman, John wanted to know why.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

'I would give my world to lift you up

I could change my life to better suit your mood…'

Rob Thomas' impassioned plea only added to the soothing atmosphere Evangeline consistently found in Cristian's studio. She relaxed her shoulders and her eyes drifted closed. The disagreement with John left her restless. Most of the day, her assistant graciously fielded all but the most important phone calls. In the back of her mind, Evangeline hoped to hear from John. Of course, that call never came.

At the least, he owed her an apology. How many times had she accepted a sudden change in plans that canceled dinners and events she'd arranged for them? She never complained or voiced disappointment. Or even placed blame. She'd taken everything in stride. Now, that it was his turn to experience the same, he behaved like a spoiled child.

Okay, maybe that analogy went too far, but still. Her brows drew together into a frown. What would it take for John to sacrifice a part of his world to lift her up or to make a few changes to better suit her mood? In the beginning, things were so much different. Everything flowed together perfectly. Perhaps, too perfectly. Had the earlier ease blinded her to the obvious roadblocks ahead?

"You're frowning."

Cristian's quiet interruption of her thoughts startled her. Evangeline jumped. Her eyes blinked open and to her chagrin, the heat of a blush crept up her neck.

"Relax," he said. He grabbed a damp towel he kept nearby. Wiping paint from his hands, he perched on a stool and gave her a killer smile. "Let's take a break.'

"After ten minutes?"

"Why not?"

"Because…" A reasonable, logical answer didn't come fast enough. She was used to moving on a faster timetable. Creative-types adhered to a different set of rules. Asking him to adapt didn't seem right or fair.

"You're used to moving at super speed," he said knowingly. "You don't have to do that here."

She didn't respond. The delicious aroma of warming food overpowered the usual smell of paint. The low rumble from her stomach reminded her that she left most of her lunch on the plate. There had been no snacks since then, only coffee.

"Mamí's tamales are the best. Want some?"

"I can't."

He frowned. "Why not? Is it too spicy for you?"

She didn't miss the hint of challenge in his tone. "No, I happen to like spicy food and I love tamales."

"Good." He rose from the stool and tossed the towel onto a table. "It's settled. While you wash up, I'll fix our plates."

His take charge attitude left her speechless and held her still. The year away changed him from the Cristian she remembered. He exuded confidence. His eyes radiated determination and power. Muscles bulged and flexed beneath his form-fitting shirt and jeans. As he walked away, she noticed that he moved with athletic grace. A faint tremor touched her heart. She ignored it and left to wash her hands.

Cristian felt her eyes watching him. Somehow, he resisted the temptation to boldly face her scrutiny. _Patience_. The single word kept him in check. Everything in its due time.

After washing his hands, he spooned rice and the tamales onto their plates and set them on the table. The dinner for two was a spur of the moment decision. Whatever happened between her and McBain ruined her appetite. By now, he knew her well enough to accurately guess that food would be the last thing on her mind. When his mother offered to make dinner for him, he jumped at the invitation. Plans for an intimate dinner quickly came to mind. One corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile. _So far, so good._

The scent of flowers mingled with the aroma of dinner. He turned and saw her standing in the doorway. She gave him a tentative smile.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just have a seat and enjoy yourself." He held out a chair and waited as she sat. Then, he moved to the fridge. "Drinks are limited. I have a couple of Coronas, milk, juice and water. Which would you like?"

"Whatever you're having is fine."

"Okay. Two milks coming up."

She laughed. The pleasant sound filled him with unexpected pleasure. Concerned that the feeling would reveal itself on his face, he kept his back to her while he poured their drinks. The task gave him time to compose himself.

"You surprise me," Evangeline said.

He frowned as he faced her. "How?"

She accepted the glass from his extended hand. For the briefest moment, their fingers touched. A sizzling sensation began at his fingertips and flowed through his veins. This time, he forced himself to hold her eyes. The truth was impossible to ignore. Whatever just happened between them she felt, too.

Her gaze cut to the steaming plate in front of her. Her shoulders lifted and fell in a casual shrug. "I don't know. I guess I made an assumption and I shouldn't have. I apologize."

"For what?" He slid onto the chair across from her. "Don't apologize. Everyone has made assumptions about someone. It's a part of human nature."

"I imagine you learned a lot about human nature while you were away."

He stiffened. He hated casual references to his year of captivity. Curiosity was a given. But that didn't mean he had to like it. "I learned more than anyone should ever have to know."

"I shouldn't have mentioned that. My foot is so far down my throat I'm terrified of what the portrait will look like."

"Don't be. It will be beautiful. How could it not?"

She murmured a thank you. Soon after, their conversation turned to safer things. During it all, Cris felt that significant progress had been made. The walls were breaking down around them.

---

"Where have you been?"

John sat on the easy chair adjacent to the sofa. On the coffee table sat the dozen roses he'd sent over. He found them outside the door. He brought them inside, and for the last couple of hours, he waited for Evangeline's return. In the meantime, he called her cell and spoke with her assistant. Neither supplied the answers he wanted. But, now she was home.

She dropped her keys onto the credenza and carefully set her laptop case onto the sofa. Her brown eyes simmered heat, but it wasn't the passionate kind. He hitched a quick breath, instinctively knowing he was in for it.

"Out. We didn't have plans tonight."

"No." He quickly stood. Inhaled another deep breath. Was that paint he smelled? Had she been with Cristian Vega? In the artist's studio? Alone?

"So, why the interrogation?" Folding her arms across her chest, she returned his stare. "I didn't know I wasn't allowed to come and go as I please."

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean because the way you're looking at me…" Her mouth tightened. "Look, John, if you have something to say just say it."

"I was worried about you. I called you and for maybe the third time in history, your cell phone was turned off. Your assistant didn't know where you were either. I almost called Nora--"

"And then what…an APB? I don't understand this conversation. I appreciate that you were worried about me, but I've been out late before. You've never thrown out the attitude you're throwing now. I want to know why."

He found it impossible to lessen the accusation from his tone. Natalie's words and now, Evangeline's late arrival irked him. _Where the hell had she been?_ "Have you spoken to Cristian lately?"

"Unbelievable," she muttered. "Natalie strikes again."

"She has nothing to do with this, and you're avoiding my question."

"I'm not avoiding anything," she retorted. "Yes, I saw him after you walked out on me at the diner. He came over and we spoke. Later, your friend questioned me, and when I didn't give her the answer she wanted, she went running to you. Geez, is this high school or what?"

"She's still upset about the divorce--"

"Don't give me that," Evangeline said. "She wants _you_. Plain and simple. Seeing me talk to Cristian just gave her an excuse to go running to you. _Again_. I'm not blind and I don't know why you pretend to be."

"I'm with you," he said.

"I suppose I should be grateful."

He frowned. Her quick wit was one of the things he enjoyed about her. But the sarcasm…he'd never felt the full brunt of it before. And he didn't like it. "I didn't say that."

"No, you didn't. There are times when you don't say much and frankly… Look, I'm tired and I have a long day tomorrow. I don't want to fight with you about Natalie or anything else."

"Neither do I. I should go." He hesitated, hoping she would stop him.

Instead, she said, "Yeah."

"Fine." He stalked to the door. "The flowers are from me to you."

"Thanks." Her tone was void of any emotion.

He left. Standing outside in the cold, he wondered what the hell just happened.

* * *

"Smooth" lyrics by Rob Thomas from Santan's _Supernatural_ CD. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Pow! Bam! K-Plunk! 

The ball slammed into the wall with the force of a jet plane. Evangeline inhaled a deep breath that did little to calm her. Hunkering low, she waited for the next ball to come in her vicinity. Beside her, Nora crumpled to the sweat slick floor.

"I can't take any more," Nora said through pants. "If you care about me at all, you'll end this vicious game."

Evangeline moved to stand over her exhausted friend. Sweat trickled down her forehead and into her eyes. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Damp tendrils clung to her cheeks and neck. _Damn_. She'd just gotten her hair pressed two days ago. Rescheduling another appointment required fancy footwork. Sharon's Salon and Spa had an extensive clientele and was always booked. Maybe she could call in a favor or two.

"Damn, damn, damn."

Nora flinched dramatically. "What's wrong now?"

"My hair…my life…everything."

"Help me up."

Evangeline took Nora's hand and pulled her into a standing position. The effort and ball breaking racquetball game took its toll on both women. Their ragged breathing echoed in the boxed room. Eventually, the even breaths returned. Yet, Evangeline still saw red. She stooped for the ball. Nora swiped it faster than Evangeline could blink.

"One more game."

Her friend refused. "Nope. We've had enough. Okay, maybe you haven't, but I have. Don't forget. I have a son who needs me. Another game would kill me."

"I need to hit something! Anything!" Restless energy burned inside Evangeline. Recent events created a volcanic reaction inside her. She never lost control. Self-possession was her strongest ally. Over the last few days, the trait vanished and left her with seething frustration. Why didn't she see this one coming?

"I know several things you can hit," Nora said. "The first is the shower."

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

"I try. Come on. Let's go."

Thirty minutes later Evangeline smoothed her hair into a ponytail and entered Rodi's with Nora like a woman in total control. But Nora did promise something about smacking some balls around on the pool table. Evangeline bypassed the dining area and headed straight for the cue sticks.

Nora caught her arm. "Not so fast, Minnesota Fats. First, we eat."

They settled at a semi-secluded table near the jukebox. Nora ordered for both of them. After the waitress left, Nora touched Evangeline's hand. "Out with it."

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I shouldn't have agreed to go out today. I'm sorry about that racquetball game. I nearly killed you."

"Me?" Nora pointed to her chest, an incredulous expression on her face. "I'm a tough broad. I can handle anything, but you… You're running yourself ragged. We can talk about it. Is it John or Jessica's case?"

"The case isn't easy, but I understand it. I know how to defend Jessica and I'm confident in my abilities. But John is an enigma."

"Isn't that what makes him so appealing? _Appealing_? Sexy, dammit. I _mean_ sexy. The dark, brooding male is what intrigues us women. We want to analyze and dig deep beneath their layers until we uncover every little nuance that makes them tick." Nora arched an eyebrow. "Right?"

"The sad thing is you're right. At least in the beginning…he intrigued me. Our similarities and differences fascinated me. We're both driven by ghosts and determined to prove ourselves. Mistakes weren't an option. But right now, I'm thinking that our getting involved was a huge mistake."

"That's fear talking."

The waitress returned with a large order of chili cheese fries and two beers. Evangeline watched as Nora indulged in a couple of fries. She wished for her friend's appetite. When Nora suggested Rodi's, Evangeline had been all set to drown her problems in an overabundance of greasy food and a mug of ice cold beer. That was before her stomach started churning. She slumped into the chair and turned inward. A moment later, she mumbled, "Maybe I am a little afraid. This isn't going the way I planned."

"Relationships rarely do," Nora said softly. "What happened?"

"He wanted me to drop everything and go to an Eagles game with him. Normally, I would have done it, but I'm in the early stages of preparing for Jessica's case. I will only dump so much on my paralegal. It's not Dawn's responsibility to put this together."

Nora nodded as she snagged another fry. "Go on."

"Anyway, he wasn't happy about it and stormed off. Later, I came home to find him in my living room demanding to know where I was and whom I was with. I had an RJ flashback with that one and basically told him to get out."

"Do you regret it?"

"I regret this chasm between us," she said emphasizing with spread hands, "but not anything I said. He can't have his cake and eat it, too. Oh, yeah. Natalie's name came up. I swear, her involvement in our lives makes no sense to me. She should be hanging out with people her own age like Jennifer, Michael and Marcie. Every time I blink she's sniffing behind John. I'm not dealing with that anymore."

"You shouldn't have to. John should have clarified the boundaries with her."

Evangeline nodded. "I agree!" Slightly invigorated, she reached for a cheese-drenched fry. Her taste buds flared to life with the first bite. She ate one and reached for another. "She's sneaky, vindictive and immature. I don't know how he can't see it."

"Oh, God," Nora groaned. "I'm scared to ask what she's done now, so I won't. Is it possible that he likes the attention?"

Evangeline stopped mid-chew. She swallowed hard and wiped her fingers on a napkin. A sweeping sensation of melancholy replaced the frustration and slow boiling anger.

"What did I say?" Nora quickly asked. "Whatever it is, I'm probably wrong."

"No, I don't think so," Evangeline said. "You nailed it; what I hadn't wanted to face."

Nora's brows crinkled into a frown. "And that is?"

"That being with me isn't enough for John, and if that's the case, it may be time for me to move on."

- - -

Cristian hadn't seen Evangeline for a few days. She canceled their sessions and asked him to reschedule. The tension in her voice appealed to his protective instincts. He wanted to do anything he could to quell her anxiety. Agreeing to whatever she wanted seemed to be the best solution. She thanked him profusely and he hadn't heard from her since. A few times, he worked on the portrait, applying little touches here and there. If he expected the work to comfort him, he was sadly mistaken. Staring into his depiction of her dazzling doe-like eyes made him long to see the real thing. Her dancing brown orbs caused him a few sleepless nights. He anticipated running into her. But until that happened, he desperately needed to work off some steam.

He met Antonio at the gym. They hit the weights hard and parted ways at the punching bag. As his sparring partner laced his gloves, Cristian felt eyes boring into the back of his head. He turned and met John McBain's glare head on.

The former Fed looked ready for a fight. With a fighter's swagger, he approached Cris. Cristian swallowed a smile. This was what he'd been waiting for. McBain's accusations, fears and inadequacies rolled into one ball of fire. And Cris was more than ready for it.

"Bring it on."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Bring it on?

John couldn't mistake the hint of challenge in Cristian's tone and stance. Defiance oozed from every pore of the younger man's body. Maybe, just maybe, John subconsciously egged him on. He hadn't heard Evangeline's voice or seen her beautiful eyes in days. Agony wasn't a stranger to him. Enduring it for many years had become second nature. But this _loss_ sunk below the depths of that nagging torture. He ached for the lady lawyer more than he had a right to. And right then, an odd sensation gripped him, warning him that the abyss between him and Evangeline might not be organic but man-made.

His hands clenched at his sides. One last shred of common sense dug deep into his psyche. It held him in check, preventing his natural instincts from taking hold and knocking the shit out of the arrogant artist.

"'Bring it on?' That's an interesting choice of words."

Cris shrugged. The muscles in his shoulders and neck rolled and corded. His eyes flashed an unspoken dare. "Hey, you were eyeing me. To hell with your badge, McBain. You have something to say. Say it."

Don't take the bait.

John expelled a low breath. "I have nothing for you."

"You sure about that? I guess not," Cristian answered his own question. "You've already taken Natalie. What more do you want, right?"

"What happened with Natalie… _Nothing_ happened with Natalie," he said through gritted teeth. "We're friends"

"I'm talking about before I came back from the dead." A harsh laugh tore from Cris. "Forget about it. It's all water under the bridge now anyway. It's over. She can run after you all over town and you can pretend that you don't like the chase. But damn, if you're not the biggest idiot in Pennsylvania. Or maybe you're the smartest. On one hand you have a younger woman who idolizes you meanwhile there's a beautiful, successful woman in your bed. Evangeline"

Crack!

John's fist swung and connected with Cris' mouth faster than either man could blink. But that single successful blow was all it took for the pent-up guilt, animosity and suspicion to flare to life. Punches flew and connected. John endured the artist's gloved punches to his midsection and threw several of his own. Ragged breaths echoed loudly in his ears followed by the sound of flesh on flesh. Then, as if in a dream, they were pulled apart.

Sweat trickled down his brow and into his eyes. John blinked. His blurry vision cleared, revealing that Antonio had a death grip on his brother-cousin. John realized that someone held him in place. He glanced over his shoulder and met Kevin Buchanan's sarcastic smirk. Shrugging free, John nearly stumbled, but his pride moved in quickly and righted his footing.

"You can thank me later," Kevin wise-cracked before returning to his workout.

Antonio moved between the two men. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Don't look at me," Cris said. "McBain started it. And I was finishing it."

"What?" The single word cut from John's mouth like a knife.

"John"

"Nah, Antonio." John grabbed his towel and pressed it to his cut lip. "Forget about it. The kid isn't worth it."

"I got your kid right here, McBain"

"Cristian!" Antonio turned on his brother. "What's wrong with you?"

"I told you, bro. It's not me." Cris sidestepped his brother to block John's path. "Anytime you want some more, you know where to find me."

"I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

"What are you doing here?" 

Evangeline regarded her mother with a frown. She stepped back into her condo and allowed her mother entry. "I don't understand the question," she replied, watching as Yvonne flung off her cape and set her purse on the sofa. "I live here. Where else would I be?"

"Does Cristian Vega's studio mean anything to you?"

A tingling sensation began to assault Evangeline's temples. She closed and locked the front door and rested her head against the back of the door. "Mama, please."

"Or if you're not there sitting for the portrait that is by no stretch of the imagination cheap, you could be at Rodi's or The Palace or The Angel Square Hotel."

Evangeline released a deep, frustrated sigh. "You're referring to John, now."

"But instead of being with either man," her mother continued as if she hadn't spoken, "you're here, dressed in sweats and socks and looking like death warmed over. On second thought, I'm glad you're not with Cristian. I want him to paint the real Evangeline Williamson. This version is a pale, sad-hearted imitation. Will you tell me what's wrong?"

"It's nothing worth talking about." She trudged to her recliner and sunk into its soft cushions. "Would you like something to eat? There's some take-out in there somewhere. I think there's juice and water in the fridge, too."

Yvonne swept into the kitchen and returned with chips, cookies, a quart of ice cream and two spoons. She spread a tablecloth on the floor and made herself comfortable along the edges. Evangeline watched this all with a faint inkling of amusement. What in the world was her mother up to?

"Comfort foods are a soothing balm, but are not to be overused or you'll live to regret it." She waved for Evangeline to join her. "Come on. We can wash it all down with root beer floats at the end."

"Root beer floats? You remembered."

"It's not something I'm likely to forget."

"But there's no root beer in the kitchen."

"I'm not so feeble that I can't buy some at the store and bring it back."

Evangeline released a dejected laugh. "Mama, you don't have to do that."

"Who said anything about have to?" Her mother ripped open the bag of chips with flair that was all Yvonne Williamson. "Come on. Hurry up. The ice cream is melting."

Oddly soothed by the reference to her childhood, Evangeline found the urge to move. She slumped to the floor and sat across from her mother. The open bag of chips was promptly placed on her lap and she dug in without a second thought.

"Nora and I have junk food binges. We had one not too long ago after I nearly killed her during racquetball."

"So, this isn't new. You've been in this place before."

Evangeline nodded. "And I don't like it much."

"Well, you'll probably like what I have to say even less."

She groaned and reached for a cookie. "Go ahead. Shoot. It's not like I could stop you."

Her mother shrugged, but she didn't deny it. "John and Cristian exchanged licks today."

"What? Who told you that? How do you know?"

"I had a late supper with Viki and her son joined us. He told us that he and Antonio separated them. He said they fought like they wanted to kill each other. He assumed it was about Natalie and the divorce. But for some reason, I don't think it's as simple as that. Does John know that Cristian is painting your portrait?"

Evangeline crunched hard on a chip. "I don't know what John knows nor do I care."

"You don't mean that. Maybe you mean it right now, but maybe not tomorrow… Why didn't you tell John?"

"Because somehow, someway even the passing mention of the portrait being of me would lead it back to Natalie. And, Mama, I'm tired of her. Just the other day, she ran to John, insinuating something about Cris and me. She refuses to leave John alone. _Anything _rain falling from the sky or a dog relieving itself at a hydrantis an excuse for her to run to him. I don't want to deal with that anymore."

Yvonne reached out and took her hand. "You and John look like you have something very special. Don't let her immaturity and games ruin your relationship. Do you love John?"

"Before, I thought I could. Now, I don't know anymore." Sudden tears stung her eyes. "I don't know anything anymore."

"Oh, baby." Yvonne moved and pulled Evangeline into her arms. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. It will get better."

"Promise?" She sniffled and closed her eyes.

"I do…with all my heart."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The faint scent of stale cigarette smoke and free-flowing booze hit Evangeline like a ton of bricks the moment she stepped foot inside the hotel. Only a few days had passed since the blow up with John, but it felt much longer. As her heels clacked on the linoleum floor, she suffered several hits of self-doubt. This showing of hesitation shook her nerves. She _always_ trusted her judgment. What rattled her self-confidence now?

Unwilling to get to the heart of the answer, Evangeline pushed on and all too quickly found herself outside Apartment Number six. She knocked and waited. If he didn't answer, she'd go home and forget about it. Maybe they were already too far gone for this visit to make a difference.

A muffled curse sounded through the heavy wooden door. She listened closely and heard footsteps trudge across the hardwood. Seconds later, the door swung open. Bruised and battered, John glowered in the doorway. When his blue eyes connected with hers, he straightened. His chest puffed and Evangeline resisted the urge to chuckle at the slight indication of male pride.

He jutted his chin toward the gift basket cradled in her arms. "Is that for me?"

"It depends," she said, blurting the first thing that came to mind. The words came as a shock to her system. What did they mean? How juvenile had this become?

Something murky and unreadable crossed his eyes. He blinked and graced her with a half smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Come in. Please."

She moved inside and set the basket on the coffee table. "It's mostly fresh ground coffee and dry soup mixes. I didn't know how badly you were hurt so--"

"I'm not." He moved forward. His hand briefly touched the small of her back. "Have a seat. Join me in coffee and soup."

"Sit down and I'll take care of it."

"Evangeline, I can do it."

"I know, but would it be so bad if I did?"

Their eyes locked. Time seemed to tick by at a snail's pace. Evangeline held her breath, waiting. Did he understand the necessity of give and take in a relationship? Why was the need for commitment instead of possession a foreign concept to him? They could be so good together. She'd never felt as right with anyone else as she did with John McBain. But there was always something tearing them apart. Were they strong enough to fight the outside forces or would it make more sense to give up now…before she got hurt?

He expelled a low breath. A low grunt sounded from his parted lips. He rubbed his midsection and slowly relaxed on the sofa. His blue eyes glowed with the promise of understanding. "No, it wouldn't. Thanks."

She dropped her coat and purse onto the chair. As she crossed behind him, she patted his shoulder. "See, that wasn't so bad after all."

---

Cristian lowered his hand into the bowl of ice water, leaned back against the chair's overstuffed cushions and closed his eyes. The clink of ice cubes lulled his senses in a strange way. His bruised and swollen knuckles made work impossible. The unexpected vacation gave him time to plot.

McBain had distress written all over him. Despite Evangeline's absence from Cris' studio, something was seriously amiss in her relationship with the detective. Cris chuckled at the thought. The former Fed was a pompous idiot. Basking in Natalie's pursuit while he had a gorgeous woman at home. Granted there was a time when Natalie's attention rocked Cris' world. But that part of his life was over. Now that he'd come through the worst kind of hell, he realized that a rocking world could not compare to a stable one. Whatever true love he and the feisty redhead shared died in October 2003. Hanging onto a dream sustained him during his captivity. But now that he was free, he realized the truth. Settling as second best wasn't his cup of java. He wanted and needed the whole thing.

Bells jingled, signaling that the front door had been opened. No doubt Antonio told Mamí about the fight. A half smile crossed his lips at the thought of his mother fussing over him. God, how he'd missed her and his brother while he was locked away on that awful ship.

"Cristian--"

That was not the voice of Carlotta Vega. His eyes opened. _Damn!_

"--I came as soon as I heard. Let me help."

"I don't want your help."

She moved to touch the cut on his forehead. He swatted her hand away and stood quickly. The bowl of water and ice cubes crashed to the floor. Cold water splashed everywhere. She grabbed a nearby towel and stooped to clean the mess.

"Natalie, leave it alone."

Color drained from her face. The flaming red locks made her appear sickly pale. Blue eyes flashed with fire. "Let me do this. Let me help."

"I don't want it," he said through gritted teeth.

"Can't we at least be friends?"

He shook his head. A sudden pain throbbed his temples. The ache was no residual affect from the scuffle with McBain. Her presence hurt more than it calmed.

"No. We can't." He tugged the towel from her hands and flung it onto the table. "There's nothing for you here. There's no reason for you to come back, so don't. You're not wanted."

"I don't believe you--"

"You should."

Triumph gleamed in her fleeting smile as she said, "You're lying. You and John fought today. I know it was because of me."

"Not from my point of view," he said quietly. "Look, I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want you here. You were clear about what was in your heart. So, I'll be clear about mine. Since my filing for divorce has left you confused, let me use words that you can understand. I don't love you anymore. It's over, Natalie. I don't want your friendship or anything else. I just want you gone."

He crossed to the door and opened it. "Leave the keys on the table and don't come back."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Welcome back, stranger." Cristian paused in setting up his brushes and paints as he watched Evangeline enter his studio. She moved with self-assurance. Wavy ebony tresses brushed her shoulders, framing her flawless honey brown skin to perfection. Her hips swayed to her own unique rhythm. The sexy strut of Evangeline Williamson had him completely mesmerized.

"It hasn't been that long?" A rosy tint colored her mocha cheeks. "Has it? I'm sorry, Cristian, but I've been busy with Jessica's case."

"No need for apologies." He shrugged off her concerns. "It's good to see you again. I've missed you."

Her steps faltered. "You did?" Then, she released a soft chuckle. "I bet you say that to all your clients."

He shook his head. "I've never said that to anyone." He reached for her hand and led her to his favorite chair. After she sat, he perched on a stool near her feet. "Before we begin, relax. I get the feeling you're rushing again. When you walk through the door, you leave the rest of the world outside. We want the real Evangeline on the canvas and not a façade."

"So, you think I'm a fake?"

"No." He smiled to soften his explanation. "Like the rest of us, you show one face to the world while your truer self remains hidden."

"Everybody does that."

"It protects us from getting hurt," he said.

She nodded once, but didn't immediately respond. He wondered if he said too much. The fall-out would have to come. After the altercation with John and the subsequent visit from Natalie, Cristian's tolerance for bullshit hit an all-time low. Evangeline's surprise return resurrected feelings he believed dead. Sure, he was physically attracted to her. What heterosexual male wouldn't be? She was beautiful. Primal desire now burned into something else. He _had_ missed her. He anticipated their time together in his studio. Simply sharing space with her had meaning. A woman who didn't play games was refreshing. Her honesty was a rarity. The more he grasped her personality, the more he wanted to be near her.

"Is that why you and John fought?" she asked quietly. "Did your mask slip and your true self revealed itself?"

"I don't want to talk about McBain."

"You're still in love with Natalie."

He almost laughed. "That fight had nothing to do with Natalie. He didn't tell you?"

"I didn't ask."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh."

"Oh?" Indignation colored her tone. "Is that it? You won't tell me either."

"It depends." A slow smile played at his mouth. He watched in fascination as her eyes danced at the challenge. She lit up like a Christmas tree right before his eyes, glowing and beautiful.

"On what?"

"Whether or not you really want to know."

Her brows drew together for a brief moment. Indecision registered on her face. Cris observed the play of emotions and wondered if she'd rise to the bait.

"I hope I won't regret this," she murmured. In a stronger voice, she said, "I want to know. Tell me."

"Demanding," he said, unable to resist the impulse to tease her. "The truth is we fought about you."

"Me?" She glanced away. "Why me? Was it about the portrait?"

"The portrait never came up."

"So...?"

"Natalie is playing games with his head and he's too stupid to realize it. Meanwhile, he has you. A woman most men wait their entire lives to meet. I told him he was a fool to play with a child when he has a real woman. God knows, I wouldn't do it."

"You said all of that to him. Cristian, why would you do that? I don't understand."

"You're a smart woman. You'll figure it out." He rose and moved to the canvas. As he flipped over the cover, he said, "It's getting late. We should get started."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Hi, John."

He stiffened at the obvious seductive tone. Vega was right and John hated to admit it. Even to himself. She wanted him and as much as John tried to pretend otherwise nothing would change the truth.

"Natalie, now isn't a good time." He turned from the window to see her still standing in the door to his office. "I have a stack of unsolved cases..."

"I know. I just came to see how you're doing." She flashed him a smile and sauntered fully into his office, pausing a moment to close the door. A greasy paperback swung in her hand at her hip. "I figured you were here working when you should be at home resting. I heard about the fight. I'm sorry about Cristian."

"You don't have to be," he said. "We didn't fight about you."

Confusion flickered across her face. A frown creased her brow. "That's what he said."

"He told you the truth." John pulled out his chair and sat. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."

"I brought you dinner."

"I don't want it."

"I'll just leave it. You may want it later."

She placed the bag inches from his hand. The aroma of greasy fries and a burger wafted toward him. Usually, the smell made his stomach rumble with hunger. This time, his stomach clenched. His throat tightened. He really wasn't in the mood for this.

He stood, grabbed the bag and forced it back into her hand. "Take it with you."

"John—"

"Look, Natalie, I'm trying real hard here, but you won't give me an inch."

Her mouth opened and closed several times. "I don't know what you mean."

"Bringing me food and stopping by unannounced...you can't do that."

"But we're friends," she said. "Friends do things for each other."

He nodded toward the bag now clenched in her hand. "That has nothing to do with friendship and you know it."

"I care about you—"

"You don't even know me," he said. "You have an idea of me."

"I know that we come from the same place. We've shared things that no one else can understand. Pain and sadness that comes from deep within."

"Your pain and sadness should have ended the day Cristian returned." He hitched a sharp breath. "Look, Natalie, our friendship is important to me, but you're taking it too far."

"You care about me, John," she said. "I don't know why you deny it. You fought Cristian because of me!"

"No," he said, holding onto his temper and patience with a short thread. "It had absolutely nothing to do with you. Your name was mentioned, but we fought about... Never mind. It's none of your business."

"Why can't you just admit it?" She reached out to touch his face. He caught her hand.

"Because there's nothing more to admit. If anyone should bring me food or check on me, it's Evangeline. She's the woman in my life. Not you."

"Then, where is she?" Natalie jutted her chin in defiance. "She's not here. I know exactly where she is. She's with Cristian."

The conviction in her eyes almost convinced him, but he didn't want to consider it. Evangeline wouldn't cheat on him. But the way Cris came after him made John wonder. What exactly was their relationship and why hadn't Evangeline mentioned the other man to him? She kicked him out of her apartment the last time John questioned her about Vega. What was she hiding?

As he pondered the questions, the sudden quiet in the room got to him. He glanced at Natalie. Triumph gleamed brightly in her blue eyes. The sight sickened him. How could she gloat while insinuating that his girlfriend had someone else? He couldn't stand to be in her presence a moment longer.

He stormed to the door and swung it open. "Good night, Natalie."

"There's still something between us," she said, as she paused at the door. "Sooner or later, you'll have to face it."

---

"When do I get to see it?"

Evangeline relaxed from the pose to stretch and shake off the stiffness. Upon her arrival, they went straight into the sitting. Cristian didn't rush her, but she sensed urgency coming from him. At her question, he looked up and smiled. The pure gesture astounded her at its sweet innocence. He really was a very attractive man.

He looked from the canvas to her. "It's not ready, yet."

"Give me a break!" She complained with a laugh. "You've been saying that for weeks. How long does it take?"

"Masterpieces take time," he responded in a no nonsense tone. "When I'm finished, you'll be glad we didn't rush."

"What do you mean 'we'? You're doing all the work."

"Sitting still can't be easy." He set aside his brushes and quickly washed his hands. In a sexy display of athletic grace, he moved behind her. "You keep rubbing your neck. Let me see what I can do."

She jumped at the touch of his hands on her shoulders. "Cristian, I—"

"Ssh," he murmured at her ear. "Just relax. It's impossible to focus with a crick in your neck. I'll get rid of it in no time."

Blood pulsed like fire through her veins. The calluses on his palms and fingers gently kneaded her flesh, making her weak. Her knees wobbled. She swallowed hard to steady herself. "I can put a heating pad on it."

"Why go to all that trouble when you have me?"

She released a nervous chuckle. "I didn't know this was a part of the job description."

"It's a perk," he said, sliding his hands to the curve of her neck and shoulder.

Hypnotized by his touch, she closed her eyes. She never dreamed his hands would feel so warm, so gentle. A soft sigh escaped. The heat of his body seemed to envelope her.

"See," he whispered, "it's getting better already." His warm breath fanned her cheek. "This isn't so bad, is it, Evangeline?"

Lulled into a state of complacency, she simply nodded.

"Your skin is so soft. I hope I can show that in the portrait." He lifted her hair from her neck. His thumb pressed into her nape in slow, steady circles. "The shine in your hair and the light in your eyes... You're a work of art. So beautiful, so vibrant."

Ignoring the warning bells, Evangeline found herself strangely flattered by his words. The weight of his hands left her. She felt his heat shift. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find him standing in front of her. The hungry look in his eyes scorched her. Excitement lingered in the air. She pressed her hand to her chest to catch her breath.

For a moment, she thought he would kiss her. He moistened his lips and gazed at her through heavy lidded eyes. Then, the moment passed. He returned to the canvas and picked up a brush. "We'd better get back to work."

"Sure." She returned to her pose and tried to pretend the last few seconds hadn't happened. But she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Cristian Vega had acted on his first impulse.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Evangeline's hand trembled as she knocked once on the door. On the drive over, half a dozen reasons to turn back crossed her mind. She was half-convinced to go home, but her conscience refused to let her rest. If circumstances were reversed, she'd want to know. Maybe John deserved at least that.

He opened the door. Shock flickered briefly in his blue eyes. Then, he stepped aside. She walked in. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. She almost didn't hear the door click closed. What if this conversation turned out to be a mistake? There really was only one way to find out.

"Hi, John. I probably should have called first."

An unreadable expression crossed his face. "We're not at the point where you have to call first. Or are we?"

"I'm not sure where we are." She placed her handbag on an end table and sat on the sofa. "All we do is argue and that's not my idea of a healthy relationship."

He perched on the coffee table directly opposite her. Resting his forearms on his thighs, he leaned toward her. "Then, what is?"

"Open communication is important. I can't remember the last time we communicated—"

"Evangeline, what did you come here to say? I won't begin to guess where you're headed. Just tell it to me straight."

"Cristian Vega is painting my portrait. It was my mother's idea."

Angry dots of red colored his cheeks. He rubbed his hands over his face. "So, that's it."

"That's not all. He hasn't come out and said it, but he's interested in me."

"What brought you to this conclusion?"

"Tonight, he...I..." The words lodged in her throat. She didn't want to make things worse than they already were.

"What happened tonight?" John's hands balled into fists. A muscle flickered at his jaw. "What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything. The atmosphere in the room changed."

John rose abruptly and headed to his liquor cabinet. He poured a liberal amount of JD into a glass. His hand gripped the bottle, but he raised neither to his lips. "And what did you do?"

"For a minute I sat there. Before I acted, I left and came here."

"To tell me." He returned the bottle to the cabinet. "To gloat."

"No, John," she said, rising to her feet, "to find out where we stand...where we're headed."

He swallowed the contents of the glass and set it on the edge of the counter. With his back to her, he asked, "I'm supposed to have the answers?"

"I hope we'll come to them together."

"That's a big vote of confidence." He choked out a laugh as he turned to face her. "I don't want to lose you, but for the life of me, I don't know what to do to make you stay. I don't know how to be the man you deserve."

"All you have to do is breathe." Gathering courage, she took his hands. "And be honest with me."

"About Natalie." He looked at their joined hands. "She won't face that we missed our chance."

"But what do you feel about her? Do you wish for a second chance? She and Cristian are divorcing. You'll have a clear shot then."

"I don't want a clear shot. I wanted friendship with her, but I don't think she's capable of that."

"She's never respected our relationship. The boundaries weren't clear with her—"

"I'm working on that." He gently cupped the side of her face. "I'm sorry for everything she's done and my part in it. Cristian accused me of being flattered by her interest. I hate that he's right. I can't hold it against you for feeling the same when he hits on you."

"It didn't really get _that_ far," she said honestly. "It was something underlying and that I began to sense."

"That can be worse than the obvious. It gets under your skin and takes hold faster than you can stop it."

"I stopped it," she said.

"By coming here and finding out where _we_ stand."

"I want to stand with you, John, but I can't stand alone. If you won't put any effort into us, there's no point in continuing. I can't do this alone. I'm dangerously on the verge of falling in love with you. I want to avoid the pain of heartache if I can."

"I can't make any promises, but the last thing I want is to hurt you." He pulled her into his arms. "There will be only you and me in this relationship. No one else. That is one promise I can make with a clean conscience."

"I'm holding you to it."


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

After the night of the almost-kiss, Evangeline never returned to Cristian's studio. She gave a flimsy excuse about an onslaught of cases, but he didn't buy it for a minute. His chance to have a real woman after so many near misses slipped between his hands. So without his subject present, he finished her portrait, all the while having one huge regret.

I should have kissed her.

The thought returned to him as he stood outside her apartment. He considered sending the painting via messenger. The idea seemed weak. Lesser men hid like cowards. If his experience as a prisoner on that damn slave boat taught him one thing, he was no punk-ass coward.

He was just about to knock when the door suddenly swung open. Glossy black hair shook against her shoulders like tumultuous waves. Her doe-like brown eyes glittered with excitement until they connected with his. Then, a shield of wariness fell over her. She kept her hand on the doorknob as she stepped back.

"I wasn't expecting you."

He nodded. "I know. I considered calling, but I wasn't sure you'd answer."

"What do you want?"

He lifted the carefully wrapped painting from the wall. "May I bring this in? It's your portrait."

"I didn't expect you to finish," she stammered, pressing a hand to her chest.

"It was nearly done when you stopped coming. May I?"

"Yes." She stepped aside. After he entered, she closed the door. "Cristian, you didn't have to..."

Cristian glanced around the candlelit living room as he carried the painting to the center of the room. Soft music played from invisible speakers. A dinner set for two was spread out on a blanket on the floor. Obviously, Evangeline had plans for a romantic evening. He wished he was her guest of honor for the seductive interlude.

"Your mother said your father always wanted to see his daughter on canvas. I'd never stand between a father's dream for his child." He rested his hand on top of the painting. As a gift, he had it framed in dark cherrywood. "I can see you have plans—"

"Would you open it?" She clasped her hands together and moved to stand beside him. "Please?"

"Of course." He ripped into the paper that protected the portrait from the elements. He sensed her holding her breath until the last shred fell away. With one hand, he balanced the painting against a table. "What do you think?"

Her mouth dropped. For several long seconds, she stared at her image. Her hand reached out, but she didn't touch. "My God, Cristian, I don't know what to say."

"If you say you like it that will be enough."

"I like it." She smiled at him. "I like it a lot. Thank you."

He offered to hang the painting, but she declined. Not knowing what else to say, he headed toward the door and lingered. "I hope McBain knows how lucky he is."

"We're both very lucky."

He gave her a half smile. "If you say so."

"Cristian..."

He shook his head. "You don't have to say anything, Evangeline. I enjoyed getting to know you. I hope that one day we'll be friends."

"Me too."

The belief that she meant it made the loss of realizing his revenge a less bitter pill to swallow. Besides, when McBain messed things up, Cristian was more than ready to sweep Evangeline off her feet. Until then, he'd paint.

The End


End file.
